Reliving the Magic
by Belle Princesse168
Summary: Hermione is everything she always wanted to be: confident, proud, and the new official Headmistress of Hogwarts. Everything seems to go her way...but will her old love life catch up to her? Post HBP, Post Hogwarts
1. The Troublemaker

This is just an idea I had one day. Ironically, I actually started this fanfic out as a one-shot but then changed my mind as it seemed to have potential to carry on...

Well, I suppose I won't ramble on too much. Please be sure to **READ AND REVIEW :D** I hope that you will enjoy it...if not, please tell me!

**Disclaimer:** I will say this one time only, since I aparently have a bad case of short-term memory loss. (winks) I do not own Harry Potter or any of the existing characters. They all belong to the Maginficent J.K. Rowling. :)

Now, let's begin!

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**Chapter One: The Troublemaker**

"You know, for such a supposedly bright witch, you sure are boring."

Hermione Granger frowned and glanced up, a look of questioning plastered on her face. The sound of a scratching quill immediately halted as the face of a young, teenaged scowling wizard obscured her vision.

"Really?" she asked, her tone amused. She leaned slightly in her chair and crossed her arms. "I'll be sure to remember that while assigning you your detention, Mr. Malfoy." She shot him a sweet smile before once again bending down and returning to her paperwork.

The young wizard only glared at her in return. The sound of a quill grazing a yellow sheet of parchment was making him dreadfully bored, and the owner of the said quill obviously did not care to hear his voiced opinions.

Scowling, he leaned back in his chair and amused himself by watching tiny wisps of her brown frazzled hair float unsuspecting above her head. How in the world did she ever manage to sprout such an ugly bird's nest on her head in the first place? Surely, it must have been due to some magical accident when she was younger because _surely_ Mother Nature couldn't be so evil.

Snickering silently to himself, the boy carelessly ran his fingers through his hair. It was soft and silky – trademarks of his family name. Judging from his looks, he was an icon on sight; according to many people, a darling reproduction of his father.

_Scratch. Scratch._

The young wizard groaned out of boredom, but the bushy haired witch hardly paid him any heed.

_If only I had my wand_, he thought impatiently, drumming his fingers on the desk. Slowly, he pictured it in his mind, his poor, defenseless wand being tortuously drowned somewhere in a gooey, thick substance that closely resembled an old toad's vomit…

The student grimaced at the thought of the evils possibly done on his precious possession. And none of it was fair! It wasn't fair that he even got sent to the headmistress's office _in the first place_. If it wasn't for that _stupid_ Weasley boy…

FLASHBACK

"You're putting this in all wrong!" an orange topped boy scolded Drake. He immediately grabbed the wizard's arm and jerked it away from the potion, which in turn, hissed venomously at the two of them.

Drake scowled and yanked his arm away from his partner, who was now frantically trying to correct his mistake. Graced with pale blonde hair, startling gray eyes, a prominent chin, and a very sexy smirk, Drake was, needless to say, a Malfoy in the least. And Malfoys _definitely_ did not have idiotic Weasleys touching their beloved limbs.

Just as he was about to reprimand the idiot, he was abruptly interrupted.

"Look what you've done now!"

Aston Weasley shot him a glare that could probably rival his own. The potion, now a bright red (it was suppose to be a subtle turquoise), cackled maliciously. Tiny bubbles began to form on the surface, and if anything, it looked like it was about to blow.

Drake smirked.

Truthfully, the young Slytherin was bored. He didn't like his classes; in fact, he was anything _but_ studious, much to the displeasure of his father, who apparently was brilliant or whatever. But to him, classes were always going to be a complete waste of time; potions, especially, since Professor Pyralis – a new professor, no doubt – seemed so keen to have paired him up with a disgusting inferior whose hair resembled a pile of mashed pumpkins. Not to mention that the old klutz was highly discrimating towards all children, rarely giving them a chance to explain themselves before sending them off to receive punishment. How the old wanker got the job in the first place, Drake couldn't figure out. He was clearly inadequate.

Well, as the saying goes: desperate times call for desperate measures.

With a faint scheme starting to brood in his mind, the 13 year old Slytherin took a quick glance around the room. No one seemed to notice that their potion was malfunctioning terribly. Slyly grinning to himself, he gave a hard poke to the cauldron before leaning back and faking innocence. In slow motion, it gradually began to fall...

Drake leaned back and grinned as gravity had its way. Only a few more seconds now, and the dungeon was about to turn into mad chaos…

"ARGGGGGGGGGGG!" The Weasley boy let out a howl as the hot contents of the potion spilled on him.

And then…

_CRASH!!!!!!!!!!_

The desired effect was nearly immediate. Screams erupted, and there was a frantic pushing of chairs as students scrambled away from the red liquid, which was now gradually seeping on the floor.

"I can't believe –"

"Aaaaaah! It's on me! It's on me! Potter get it off – "

" – my homework! That was my bloody home-"

The boy emitted a loud strangled noise as the potion consumed his Transfiguration essay. It disappeared easily, burning to ash before anyone could make a move to scoop it up. Meanwhile, a girl in the corner was sobbing noisily as the fluid seeped into her shoes.

"This is all their fault! If it wasn't for bloody Weasley and Malfoy –"

"I c-can't believe it! My essay! I spent hours on that thing –"

"My shoes! They were designer, you know –"

"QUIET!" Professor Pyralis stood towering above all the third years, who were all now huddling and whimpering together, eyeing the potion as if it was a deadly poison. His glittering brown eyes surveyed the mess before stopping at Weasley's stunned form. "Well, Mr. Weasley?" he asked silkily, his voice soft and quiet. "Would you care to explain what happened?"

Drake hid a sneer. Trust Professor Pyralis to give the credit to a bumbling flobberworm like Weasley. But anything was fine with him, as long as _he_ himself could avoid detention.

The redhead turned a bright tomato color. "It wasn't me Professor!" he shouted loudly. "Why don't you ask _Malfoy_ over there; I'm sure _he_ knew perfectly what happened!"

Drake's head immediately shot up, before scowling angrily. Perhaps blaming it all on Weasley wasn't a bad idea at all now…

The whole class stared at him, as if waiting for an explanation. The whole room was silent, with the exception of Brown's banshee-like sob. When he offered no explanation…

"Detention," Professor Pyralis declared softly. "And 20 points from Slytherin. Yes, Drake," he said as the boy opened his mouth in protest, "I dare to take points from my own house. Now, seeing that my office is apparently unfit for evaluation, I require that you go see the Headmistress at once."

When Drake's feet didn't move, he continued. "Very well, then. I suppose another 50 points from Slytherin will suffice greatly…"

The Slytherin scampered out of the Potions classroom as fast as his legs could carry him.

END OF FLASHBACK

Drake Malfoy glowered angrily at the bushy brown head who kept on acting like she was better than him. _Sure_, she was the bloody headmistress, but after all, nothing but a mud –

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked pleasantly, lifting her head to face the angry adolescent. He, no longer bored now, was scowling furiously to himself all the while muttering words such as "my father", "detention", and "bloody mistress" under his breath.

Hermione felt herself grinning. _The boy is an exact replica of his father_, she mused to herself. And pretty soon, the words that she was waiting for burst out from his lips.

"Wait until my father hears about this!" Drake cried crossly. "He will…he will –"

"He will, what?" Hermione asked, still grinning that smile of hers. "Believe me, Mr. Malfoy, I have known your father for many years, better than you may think. I doubt that he can do much harm towards me. Now, if you will kindly tell me –"

"_How dare you!" _The mischievous wizard rose suddenly, fists clenched into a tight ball._ "How dare you mention my father's name from your filthy mudblood lips -"_

"That's enough now!" Hermione said sternly, peering at the twitchy boy distastefully. "There will be no need for pointless name-calling now." She glared at him strictly before continuing. "I will notify your father _immediately_ to inform him of your ungracious behavior this evening. And I will once again, take pains, to remind you that as a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly, there will strictly be _no_ derogatory terms –"

But Drake Malfoy wasn't listening. Instead, he sat down and fumed. Soon however, his frown was replaced by a little smirk that was enticed from a comforting thought that he just had. Little did she know, he _already_ called his father in…Surely he will deal with _her._

He smirked to himself again, causing the Headmistress to stop in mid-rant.

"Are you listening to me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked him, furiously trying to sound patient. How in the world did Dumbledore manage to do it? Surely, such students ought to be _expelled_…

Suddenly, a squeak sounded besides her. Hermione blinked at the sudden interruption and turned her head to reveal a blundering house-elf who was shooting nervous looks at her. Obviously it had sneaked away from the kitchens.

"Well?" she asked, her voice instantly softening at the elf's anxious glances. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

But just as the elf opened her mouth to speak, a loud resounding crash was heard at the front of her office. Several portraits yelled in their paintings as someone forced their way into her workplace.

Angrily, Hermione tore herself from the house elf and refrained herself from yelling. _Couldn't they just bloody knock?_ she thought wrathfully. Honestly, the _manners_ these days…

Her eyes then fell to Drake, who was sitting there smugly, his arms folded satisfactorily across his chest. Just when she was going to ask the boy why he was acting so superior, a familiar voice sliced through her thoughts.

"Well, well, well, Granger," a cold, icy voice drawled casually. A tall wizard emerged, his gray eyes flashing at her in amusement.

"It seems as if we have some problems here…some that I could potentially…do away with."

Hermione nearly fainted from gripping the desk too tightly. Slowly, she nodded.

"Mr. Malfoy. How _nice _to see you."

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There you have it! Again, I really hoped you liked it. 

**Please don't forget to REVIEW! **Every single comment makes me go all bonkers and happy.

Please make my day. :)


	2. Complaints and Propositions

**_R_eviews are a girl's best friend. :)**

Here's the next chapter! Not my favorite one, I assure you.

Disclaimer: No own!

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_Hermione nearly fainted from gripping the desk too tightly. Slowly, she nodded._

_"Mr. Malfoy. How nice to see you."_

**Chapter Two: Complaints and Propositions**

"Naturally, naturally," Malfoy waved his hand around before giving her a broad smirk. Taking a few steps toward her, he looked around the room with a casual air of disinterest. Hermione felt herself shaking with anger as he carelessly touched the head of a statue – an ancient artifact that had its roots all the way back during Flamel's time – as if it was merely a toy. It was probably worth tons of galleons in today's time – probably tons more than Malfoy could possibly pay for.

Before she could fully reprimand him, however, he dropped his hand and turned back to look at her, a pleasing sneer playing on his lips.

"Well?" Hermione asked furiously, her hands placed on her hips. "What do you want? Obviously, it must be important for you to have to _blast apart my office_ before I could let you in."

_Not that I would let you in anyway, _she thought afterwards.

Malfoy laughed softly, his gray eyes boring into hers. "Patience, patience." He tsked at her. Turning away from her desk, he tapped his cane – an ugly metal stick with a snake's head – on the floor a few times. A magnificent green and silver armchair popped out of thin air and landed with a loud 'thump' in the middle of the circular office.

Smirking at her stunned face, Malfoy sat down casually. In the course of the next few minutes, he took such immeasurable pains in making himself comfortable – drawing up another arm chair for his son, unbuttoning his shirt slightly, loosening up his tie – that Hermione felt her patience rapidly thinning.

Finally, she snapped.

"_Well?_" she screeched again, this time louder. "What do you _want_?"

Malfoy, now lounging comfortably with his feet firmly planted on the floor, snickered. "I wish to make a complaint, Granger. And after that, a proposition."

"About _what_?"

"The complaint or proposition?"

Hermione seethed. "I don't care."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "There's no sense in being wishy-washy Granger. Pick one -"

"Fine! The complaint first," Hermione interrupted, all the while fuming. She did not have time to play mind games today.

Malfoy sneered before continuing. "Alright then. It's about my son and his punishment." Malfoy leaned slightly forward and met her gaze with his. "He strongly feels that he has been wrongly convicted of a crime that he did not do. Isn't that right, Drake?"

Drake, sitting in the corner, nodded happily, a smirk identical to his father's playing on his lips.

Hermione inwardly groaned. One Malfoy was enough, but _two?!_ One was already far too many…

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" she asked irritably.

Malfoy shrugged heedlessly. "Oh, you know, the usual – call out the testimonies and witnesses. Or better yet – forget about it completely."

The Headmistress felt her temperature rise up a notch. "I will _not_ open a court case just for your son!" she cried furiously, all the while sending a death glare in the former Slytherin's direction. "And I will definitely not just 'forget about it.' In case you have forgotten, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -"

"Hogwarts."

Hermione blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Hogwarts. Just call this junkyard of yours Hogwarts. No need with formalities with me, now." He gave her a smirk.

The brilliant witch clenched her fists and glared at him even harder. "Well, as I was _saying, _Malfoy," she continued angrily, "_Hogwarts _values students with strong moral codes of honor, and your son seems to have a repetitive habit of getting into trouble, lately. It is only fair that he receives adequate punishment for his – _Malfoy, are you listening?_"

Hermione immediately cut off at seeing him give a lazy yawn.

"Go on," he drawled merrily, waving his hand at her. "Drake and I are enjoying your lecture on morality immensely." The two Malfoys each shot her a sarcastic saccharine smile, which would have been quite funny under normal circumstances. Unfortunately however, Hermione felt herself on the brink of frustration. Her office has just been _torn apart_, for god's sake. Literally.

"Do you Malfoy men always have such short attention spans?" the former Gryffindor hissed menacingly, brandishing her wand for special effect. These two – Little and Big Malfoy – were _really_ getting on her nerves…

"Only to very boring sermons," Drake piped up in the background. Malfoy simply grinned, although she could have sworn he had muttered "good one" under his breath.

Hermione refrained herself from hexing him to pieces the size of fish pellets.

_Remember, you still are the Headmistress_, a tiny voice simpered in her head. _And Malfoy is simply a concerned parent who wishes to make things right._

She snorted. Yeah right.

"So Granger, what do you say?" Big Malfoy resumed in the same drawling voice. "Why don't we just simply forget about the punishment…and call it a day?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she felt him push a bag of coins into her hand under the desk. The nerve of that git! Trying to buy his way out…as always…

"I'm sorry Malfoy," she stated coldly, throwing the bag back in his face (it managed to hit his nose), "but I do not accept bribery. Mr. Malfoy will have to deal with his punishment like all the other students. That is all I can do." She scooted her chair back and stood up before giving him a dry smile. "Now that we've established that fact, Malfoy, I must inform you that I have tons of paperwork to sort out and would be immensely pleased if you would leave now."

"_NOW_," she repeated when Malfoy didn't budge from his seat.

His eyes thinned as he surveyed her. "Come on Granger," he tried again. "There's more money in that bag than what you possibly earn in a year. It won't hurt, you know –"

"I do not accept bribery," Hermione repeated coolly. "And you should know better than to flaunt that kind of behavior in front of your own son –"

"Enough of the lectures now, Granger," Malfoy interrupted, giving her an amused look. "What happens between my son and I is none of your concern –"

"It is too my concern!" Hermione felt herself heating up. "Your son is acting like an exact replica of _you_! He has done nothing but sulked the entire time in my office! Even worse, he has been calling me that – that _offensive_ term –"

"Which one?" Malfoy asked coolly. Hints of a smirk traced itself on his lips.

Hermione felt herself turn a bright scarlet red.

"A mudblood," she answered irritably, crossing her arms.

Malfoy's head immediately whipped to face his son, who was now scowling again at the mention of detention. "Is this true?" he asked calmly.

"But _father –_"

"Is this true?" Malfoy repeated.

Slowly, Drake nodded. "But –"

"That's enough now," Malfoy said coldly. "Apologize to Miss Granger at once."

Drake glared at an incredulous-looking Hermione – for exactly 33 seconds, she counted – before mumbling something that somewhat resembled an apology.

Pleased, Malfoy turned back to Hermione. "Alright, then," Malfoy continued as if nothing had happened, "now that everybody is _**happy**_, I have a proposition to make."

"But father! What about my detention?" Drake whined up at him before putting on big puppy eyes. "It's not fair!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Like father, like son; however, she couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness bubbling inside of her. She had won their battle. Heh. Not that she liked giving students detention or anything…

"You'll receive detention for offensive language then, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione cut in smoothly, "if you did not commit the other crime."

Drake's jaw opened to protest. His father, however, closed it with a flick of his wrist.

"Now that we've resolved this issue quickly, Granger, I have a more important proposition to make." Malfoy reached inside his cloak, pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, and threw it on her desk, causing papers to fly everywhere. Hermione inwardly flinched at the damage done.

_Well, so much for trying to get Drake out of detention_, she thought. It seemed more like an excuse for him to come here more than anything.

"What _now_?" she asked, the annoyance in her tone evident. "First you tear apart half my office and now you scatter all my paperwork –"

"Tsk, tsk, Granger," Malfoy said with a sneer. "Have _patience_ now. You have a horrible temper, you know that?"

Hermione felt her blood boil. "I_ do not_ have a terrible temper, Malfoy! And besides – my temper is none of your business."

Malfoy only rolled his eyes before shoving the newspaper underneath her eyes. The smiling faces of Hogwarts students holding hands waved up to her, their grinning faces beaming with pride. In the center sat a heavy bound textbook titled How to Defend Yourself against Evil. Hermione tried to keep herself from snorting as the familiar ad revealed itself to her. She knew that asking one of the Ravenclaw prefects to design it was a bad idea…

"Well? What do you want with it?" she asked sharply, fearing the absolute worse. And pretty soon, the words she's been afraid of hearing tumbled from his lips.

"I wish to apply for the job," Malfoy said smugly, "as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Or did that little advertisement you sent out to everyone happen to slip your ignorant mind?"

_Malfoy as DADA Professor? Bloody hell…_

"You can't apply, Malfoy," Hermione said quickly, her innards silently twisting at the thought of hiring Malfoy. "It seems that you're lacking in several qualities that a DADA professor is supposed to have."

Malfoy simply quirked an eyebrow at her. "Enlighten me, Granger."

"Well, I don't know if you know this Malfoy, but professors are actually supposed to be _intelligent_." Hermione smirked at him slyly. "And for another, they are suppose to be _knowledgeable_ in the subjects –"

"Oh shut up, Granger!" he interrupted. "I'm sick and tired of your bloody lectures. That job is mine, and you know it. After all, the students need to be taught Defense…and who knows the Dark Arts more than I do?"

Before Hermione could come up with a witty reply, however, Malfoy had strutted out of her office, the door slamming after his departure.

But she could have sworn she saw a tiny wink.

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This chapter was a bit icky in my opinion...Draco seemed way too nice. Sigh. I suppose I will have to toughen him up later. 

Anyway, please don't forget to **REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!**

**Thanks a bunch!**


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